Life
by Lourdes777
Summary: EricCalleigh How do you measure a year? Rent, Broadway


A/N: I own nothing. This takes place after the season finale.

* * *

Measure Your Life in Love

-Rent, Broadway

She'd been avoiding him and he wanted to know why. Well, he knew why, Hagen had shot himself right in front of her, fucking killed himself in her lab. Well, it wasn't exactly her lab, but that's what everybody had thought of it as.

She'd taken herself off the ballistics rotation.

He wanted to know why she'd done that, too, but it all came back down to it : Hagen.

Stupid Hagen.

Fucking, stupid Hagen.

Eric knew he shouldn't hate the dead; that his grandmother would probably tell him that cursing the dead was bad luck, or some other shit that Eric couldn't give a care about.

But he hated Hagen. Hated him. How could he do this to them? But even more than that, he was mad at someone else.

He hadn't known where he was going, at first, but as soon as he'd pulled into the entrance of the cemetery, he realized who else he was mad at. He slammed shut the driver's side door and rolled up his sleeves, shoving his shaking hands into his pockets. He was so full of rage he could barely see straight.

He was in front of the grave, but he couldn't remember the walk there.

The name was carved into the stone with finality.

Timothy Speedle.

Eric glared at the gravestone.

"How could you?" He seethed, teeth clenched together. "How could you just leave us here, like this? Dammit! We're all getting fucking torn apart here! I don't even know what to do anymore- Hagen fucking killed himself today! Cal was just sitting there, and I couldn't think of a Goddamn thing to say, because all I could think about is how everything would be so much easier if you were here! I…." He stammered off and choked.

His hands were shaking and his head throbbed.

"I wish it was me." He said finally. "I don't feel alive anymore."

He laughed morbidly.

"You know, I was always so worried about dying. About getting shot in the line of duty. I was ready. I had sorted everything out. You and Calleigh got everything. The house. The Car. The cash. I'd left some material stuff to my family. But mostly I left everything to you guys. I- I even wrote letters. I brought yours."

He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.

"I know you hated reading, but damn, you were a good listener. So- I'm gonna read you yours."

"Tim," He began, and swallowed, convincing himself that he could do this.

"Well, if you're reading this, I guess I kicked the bucket and you found this in the drawer with the bible and pictures and all sorts of sentimental stuff. I'm not going to make this long and emotional, because I left you and Calleigh everything, and that's a lot to deal with already.

So, I'm gonna spell it out like this- man, you were it. You were my best friend. You know, I remember some of the most dumbass shit we did together, when we were just really wasted, and I laugh, because I know that someday it's gonna come back and bite you in the ass.

Like when we got those tattoos. Man, don't ever get rid of yours. You screamed like a little girl. I'm not going to ask you to do a lot for me, but make sure my parents know that I loved them and tell my sisters not to do anything I wouldn't do. But most of all take care of Calleigh.

I don't care what you do with the house or the car. Sell those and keep the money, or whatever. But, whatever you do, take care of her. Keep her safe and let her know that I loved her with all my heart, and that I'll be lookin' out for her. You were it, Tim.

Gotta go man, Thanks for everything."

Eric finished and stared at the gravestone, tears filling his vision, and finally he let himself just slide to the ground and cry. He sobbed and sobbed, loud, ugly, crying, but it was too painful for him to care enough to stop.

"I was _ready_!" He shouted at the stone, "I was_ ready_ to go first! Why did you have to die? Why did you leave us? What am I going to do?"

A couple minutes later, he was nearly in control.

"I just want to feel alive." He whispered, and then got up, dragging himself to his car, and slumping into the seat, letting another bout of dry sobs wash over his body, the pain almost too much to bear.

* * *

He didn't really know what she was going to do when she found him at her doorstep, eyes red, and a couple hours past a five o' clock shadow. His white shirt had dirt on it, and his jeans had grass stains, all from the cemetery.

He knocked on the door, and he could hardly even tell what it sounded like. It was just a hollow thunk, thunk echoing in his eardrums.

She opened the door- and _God_, she just looked awful, but then; he was one to talk. She had a stony look on her face, but you could see the exhaustion in her eyes. She moved to open her mouth- probably tell him to go get some sleep and leave her alone- but then she got a good look at him.

She opened the door, and he didn't say anything when he walked in, but neither had she, so he figured pleasantries could go out the window in this case. He sighed and leaned against her wall, studying her face intently. She looked towards the ground, avoiding his face.

"I was a Speed's grave." He said, but his voice didn't sound like his.

He laughed dryly.

"You know, I figured I'd just go to some dive and get wasted and then crawl into a taxi and pass out, but, uh, I ended up at the cemetery."

She swallowed and leaned up against the opposite wall.

"I'm just so _angry_ about how things turn out, you know? Like, they say that things have to get worse before they get better, but it feels like my life is just in a downslide and I can't do a Goddamn thing about it. Even if I wanted to."

She leaned fully against the wall and listened to him tiredly.

He went on, "But, I feel like if I even try to move and make things better, I'll cause another landslide, and I'm just so _fucking mad_ that this is how it has to be. Because I feel like I've hit rock bottom, and I almost hope that I have, because at least I know things can't get any worse."

He closed his eyes and brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

"I quit today." She said stonily.

"You quit ballistics." He corrected quietly.

"Same thing." She said with a laugh that sounded almost crazed, and if he didn't know her as well as he did, he would've thought she was.

"I'm still going to be there, but I don't think it'll ever be the same. Never. Because he was so selfish." She said, shaking her head. "So selfish. And you know, I almost wish that I blamed myself for this, because then I could blame someone besides him. It feels like all I do is blame him- for everything."

They were both quiet for a long time.

"I wish I could make you happy." He said, finally. "Just feel like I could do something, anything to make you feel better, because at least then I have some purpose."

She studied his face, feeling the exhaustion seeping into every pore of her being.

"You're here." She said seriously. "That's a hell of a lot more than anyone else can say."

He crossed over to her, shakily.

"I just want to feel alive." He said for what felt like the thousandth time. And it probably was. But it was the truth, and dammit, the truth was really all he had.

"I think I'm already dead." She whispered, not quite meeting his eyes.

That was all it took. He leaned over and captured her lips with his, and she met him willingly, which didn't surprise him. Fucking John Hagen could rise up from the depths of hell and into Calleigh's entryway, and he wouldn't be surprised.

Her hands landed on his chest and he was glad that they were pressed into the wall, because then he wouldn't have to hold both of them up. He tangled his hands in her long hair and licked her lip, and she opened her mouth wider to grant him full access. She moaned in the back of her throat, and suddenly he was pretty damn sure that he had to be at least half alive, because he knew a dead person couldn't feel like this. He ran his hands down to her sides and back up to rest on her abdomen. His hands were so large they touched the base of her breasts. Suddenly their clothes seemed like an unwanted barrier; something that needed to be torn down and tossed away. He pulled his shirt off, and then Calleigh's.

He caught her lips with his again, but only for a second. He dipped his head down and kissed down to her collarbone, and then back up again, nipping lightly at her earlobe. She felt his stubble brush across her face, and the range of sensations made her knees lock.

She brushed her lips across his chest and mumbled "bedroom."

He nodded and they somehow managed to make it to her bedroom without completely ravishing each other, or smashing holes in Calleigh's walls.

They tumbled onto the bed, and if this had been a normal day, if two people he knew hadn't died tragically, even though he hade hated one of them, he probably would've been laughing and saying all sorts of witty suggestive things to her, and probably she'd be laughing too. But it was all so heartbreaking that neither of them could bear to say anything to the other.

Eric rolled on top of Calleigh and kissed her hard on the mouth, leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to between her breasts. He reached underneath her and unhooked her bra, tossing it carelessly to the side. He took one of them in his mouth and swirled his tongue around her nipple she moaned, and all of the sudden, he found himself flipped on his back, momentarily stunned.

She straddled him, and he found the pressure forcing downwards on his erection was doing nothing to help the state he was in. If nothing, it was making his state more intense; more real. She leaned down to kiss him, lying flat against his chest, and the feel of her breasts pressed flat against his muscle was almost too much. She pinned his hands above his head and bit his lower lip. He moaned, and he could here music playing softly in the background; coming from somewhere in the apartment. He couldn't make out the words, but it was something a happy person wrote when they were giddy and in love and Eric felt his heart almost breaking in two because he would give anything just to feel again.

Just to have her feel.

It was a raw feeling and when she pressed her pelvis down against his, he almost lost it. He over powered her and turned her over, toeing his shoes off and hearing them clunk to the floor. He reached for the button on her jeans and undid it, shimmying them down past her hips and throwing them to the side of her bed, panties tucked up inside. She was completely naked now, and the feeling of her against him was practically surreal. She reached for his belt and undid it, unzipping his pants and shoving them to the side. She reached into his boxers and ran her hand down his shaft, giving it a squeeze. He shuddered against her, and pulled his boxers off.

He nudged her legs open with his knee, not quite believing they were about to do this. In all of his sad fantasies, they'd been happy, rolling around in the sheets, laughing and screaming out each other's names. This was anticlimactic and sad, and part of him wondered if they really wanted this. But it didn't really matter, because he didn't know what he wanted anymore, and what she wanted was even more difficult.

He pushed into her, both of them letting out a little breath, and he looked straight into her eyes and wondered why the just couldn't be happy together, like they'd always wanted. Why were they so unhappy, when it seemed to him that they were the most deserving of just a little happiness? He just wanted to be content, even if it was only for a split second, just to see what it felt like to have everything be okay.

But happiness would have to wait for another day; a better day.

He knew he was nearing the end, and she was too, but why couldn't he feel it? Finally it was there, and he felt it. He gasped and shut his eyes at the same time she did. He felt her shudder beneath him, and that was almost better than feeling it himself, because at least he knew she was alive; that she felt alive.

That he felt alive, too.

It was raw and uncheked and a zillioin emotions came to lip all at once. He hadn't felt anything so real in a long time.

He lay atop her for a second before pulling out of Calleigh and lying beside her.

"I'm sorry." He murmured.

"It's okay." She whispered.

"No, it's not." He said.

She lay there for a second before pulling the covers over both of them and wrapping him in her arms, giving as much comfort as she was taking.

Happiness would come another day.

* * *

A/N: Woah! That took a while to write! Reviews are appreciated. 


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